


Play Date

by JaneAire



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Promnis - Freeform, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sharing a Bed, Unrequited Love, Writing Sprint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 13:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12818259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneAire/pseuds/JaneAire
Summary: “You wanna make out and pretend someone cares about us?”





	Play Date

“You really think it's a good idea to leave those two alone in a room together?” 

Ignis gave himself a moment to adjust, leaning his forehead against the cool, dark   
mahogany of the hotel room door, letting out of sigh of relief. It had been a _long_ day for not only the four of them, but particularly for Ignis. 

Gladio and Noct had been at each other's throats for days now, since Gladio had accidentally snapped one of Noct's favorite rods in the backseat of the Regalia (which, to Gladio's credit, was entirely Noctis’ fault for failing to store it) and it had been Ignis playing diplomat while they were trekking through the countryside for over twenty-four hours. 

“They'll sort it out or kill each other trying,” Ignis groaned, smoothing his leather-clad hands through his already messy hair. Six, he'd kill for a hot shower right now, but felt as though he could collapse any moment. “I'm not too sure which outcome I support at this point.” 

Prompto chuckled good naturedly, already lounging against the bed and thumbing through the photos on his camera. Ignis could hardly believe he was thinking this, but he was beyond grateful the boy had been able to join them on their journey. Sure, he'd been tedious throughout Noct's teenage years, despite Ignis’ joy that Noct had finally decided to like _someone_ , but there was something about Prompto now, during this road trip, that kept Ignis grounded to reality. The boy was considerate and kind in a way Ignis had failed to see before. He'd grown into a fine young man. 

And he really was very pretty. 

“Noct's just bein’ petty,” Prompto promised, not looking up from the screen that illuminated his pale face with a soft azure glow, tinting his constellation of freckles the same silver color as stars. Ignis watching him fondly, biting his lips as he removed his gloves, plucking at the fingers leisurely. “He'll get over it in a few days and things’ll go back to normal. Don't sweat it, Iggy, just keep on keepin’ on.” 

“Indeed,” Ignis sighed, sliding his sport coat off and nodding toward the bathroom. “Do you mind terribly if I get the first go at the shower?” 

Prom shook his head. “Nah, man, go right ahead. Just be sure to save me some water.” 

“Always.” 

\---

It was amazing what hot water, ivory soap, and a clean pair of pajamas could do to a man. Well, two men, chilling in a hotel's double bed, trying to give each other a wide berth of space because, ya know, shit happens. 

Still, between Prom playing an intense round of Kings Knight in his tank top and boxer shorts, his wet, clean hair still slicked against the nape of his neck, and Ignis thumbing between cooking channels in disgust on their twelve inch television screen in his ribbed tank and silk pajama bottoms, everything about it felt oddly domestic, in a good way. 

Prompto put off a pleasant warmth that kept them both warm after their showers, even in the chilled air of their hotel room, Prompto's feet pushed under the duvet to keep warm. Both of their arms were covered in a thin layer of goosebumps, and Prompto pressed a bit closer, letting his shoulder blade rest against Ignis’ ribs. 

“You're doin’ it again,” Prom muttered, fingers typing furiously across his phone screen. Ignis looked down in surprise beneath his glasses. 

“Doing what, exactly?” 

“Worrying about them,” he grunted, still not glancing up at the man, squinting at his phone screen. He paused only briefly to lightly smack at the older man's tummy. “Stop that. They're fine, dude. Take the night off. You know Noct’ll text the second he farts the wrong way.” 

Ignis sighed. Prompto, ever eloquent and always frighteningly observant. “I suppose you're right.” 

He did pause his game this time, glancing up with a wide smile, eyebrows skyrocketed into his hair. “Wow, there's something I'll never here again.” 

Ignis offered up a thin lipped smile. “Take a picture, it may last you longer.” 

“Mm,” Prom agreed, but regardless pushed his phone to the side, rolling over onto his stomach and slinging an arm across Ignis’ chest, drawing himself closer and relishing in the warmth the other man put off. “Hey, buddy?”

“Yes?” 

“I think I got an idea that might, uh, take your mind of thing one and thing two next door.” 

Ignis felt himself flush, dropping an arm so that it curled around Prompto's shoulders, his index finger tracing patterns across the smooth skin of his scapula, connecting the constellations of pinprick freckles there. Prompto was blushing, warm against Ignis, his own hands picking anxiously at Ignis’ tank top. 

“I'm open to suggestions.” 

“You wanna make out and pretend someone cares about us?” 

It's worded so preposterously that Ignis can't help but chuckle, his whole face flushed warm, doing wonders for the sunset flecks of gold in his early autumn eyes; which is good, because Prompto's chin is resting on his clavicle now, staring at him with low-lidded eyes and a crooked smile. Ignis is helpless, nodding, his whole face fracturing with a smile and Prompto enthusiastically charges up, his fingers tangling in the wet undergrowth stuck to the back of Ignis’ neck, kissing at his rosebud mouth with an impossible energy that left the strategist exasperated, yet impressed. 

Ignis couldn't help but laugh, Prompto giggling along with him, as if this were the first time they'd done this, as if this was the first time they'd kissed anyone, ever, and Ignis, for a moment, almost pretends they're giddy teenagers in Prompto's room listening to some punk record the younger boy likes, all hormones and passion, but it's better like this, he decided. 

Prompto laid between his legs, peppering quick, childish kisses along the lines of Ignis’ clavicle; Ignis jumped when they tickled, Prompto shooting Ignis mischievous looks every so often when he succeeds in making the advisor squeal in laughter, blushing furiously at the indignity of it all. 

It wasn't long before Ignis reached back down, cupping the boy's jaw with his calloused hands, pulling him back up and kissing him slowly, and, yeah, this was the good part; the part where Prompto's eyes screwed up in concentration, eyebrows furrowed deeply, kissing Ignis slowly and deeply like they actually liked one another. 

Sometimes, Ignis does pretend that. He pretended they were dating, pretended they were hopelessly in love, hidden away and keeping their secrets close to their chests. It was easy, the way Prompto sometimes stole glances in the car ride. They'd hold hands when the other two weren't looking, off on their own. In the tent at night, Prompto would roll away from Noct to face Ignis, pressing his face against the advisor's chest, and Ignis would card a hand through his hair in a motherly way. 

It wasn't the truth, but it was something, and it kept Prompto kissing him so intensely it felt like this was their last moment together, the way Prompto slid his hands up under Ignis’ tank top and trip over his sides as if he's counting all his ribs. Ignis kept his hand cupping the back of Prompto's neck, keeping them connected at the lips, slower now, Prompto stopping to nip lightly every few moments, pressing his plush lips to the corner of his mouth as if it's all too much for him. 

It ended with Prompto's hands fisted in Ignis’ shirt, face buried in the crook of his neck, murmuring something that sounded an awful lot like a confession, Ignis’ hands combing through his hair, making them both shiver, sending jolts down Prompto's spine. 

“Wanna kiss more, I just need a minute,” Prom mumbled, pressing another excited kiss to Ignis’ jawline, and Ignis’ realized he's trembling. He remembered what it felt like to be twenty, made entirely of hormones and so desperate. 

“Very well,” Ignis agreed, but places a reassuring hand on the back of Prompto's hair, still wet, and the other scratches lovingly between Prompto's shoulder blades.   
In the end, in the dark of the room, Ignis couldn't sleep, but listened to the drone of some moron chef on the cooking channel, Prompto's head on his chest, the boy's breath ghosting against his clavicle when he snores lightly. He pretended he was in love with him. He pretended the trip was over, it was just the two of them, and in the morning Prompto would wake him up with more kisses, help him get dressed, tell him he loved him. 

Maybe he loved him. 

Oh, Six, he loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> *sips my coffee* can ya'll tell I got that writers block real good. 
> 
> Thanks for staying to the end! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated ♡ have a great day!


End file.
